I had a slightly rough night last night. On thursday I slid on sand, taking a spill, and hit my left chest. So now my muscles on that side are sore. Turning in my sleep took me a couple of minutes each time.
This morning I barely woke up in time to see my youngest (living) son off to the army for a two week stint. He had already left a note, wishing me a good day:
(picture: Note in Hebrew with a smilie and "good morning!")
So we smoozed for a few minutes, and I garnered a few real smiles as well.
Such a simple thing... but it made my day. Turned my mood around.
So be generous today and beam some smiles to those around you. You may, so easily, improve their day.....
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Rio!
One of the reasons I have been writing so
little as of late is because I wasn't home, and had no appreciable amount of
internet connection. This is because I recently spent a week with my husband
and two of my sons, visiting Rio de Janeiro (in Brazil). The views were
gorgeous. But of how often did I think during the trip : "Gosh, I wish
Ricki was here to see this with us." And it turned out that three of the
four of us had experienced the same thought.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
I Accuse!
Today, January 23rd,
is a day that is being promoted as a day " to commemorate the lives lived
by people with disabilities who were locked away, who ARE locked away from full
participation in society. It was also established to remember those, our
elders, who have worked tirelessly for inclusion and access, for the word 'all'
to actually mean 'all'" (Dave Hingsburger). Here are my thoughts……
PRELUDE
Ricki was lucky in many
respects. She lived in an era past those of the big institution, the likes of
which I once saw (shortly before their closing) in the early 1970's. But Ricki (and through her, I) were witness
to part of the continuing struggle to let society realize that people with
intellectual disabilities are PEOPLE, and can be valued and productive ones as
well.
How numerous were the times
that people addressed me rather than Ricki in asking questions that could have
been directed to her……
How often did I witness people
underestimating her due to the obvious fact that she had Down syndrome……
How often did people assume
that I was a "saint" because I had Ricki? (I won't say she was always
an easy teenager, but few teens are.) Sometimes when people stop me and try to
console me by saying that "You did everything you could", do they
realize that guilt is NOT my problem, but that I simply MISS her?!?
And one of the things I have
felt most since Ricki's death is that I want her to be REMEMBERED, not just to
be an entity that disappeared.
We accomplished what we did in
the battle for Ricki's inclusion due to the work of many advocates before us.
Today I salute them. And I try to comprehend that there is a huge population,
of institutionalized adults, that no one remembers.
And I remember with sadness the
terrible stain on mankind who agreed for era after era to shut away those who
were different, less abled, and sometimes less productive.
The terrific prejudice and
assumptions that follow those with disabilities still exists today. And to a
large extent, isolation from the larger community is still very prevalent. And
this is something we need to keep working at……
I Accuse
One of the battles we are still
fighting for today is that of equality in medical services. Battles for the
right to heart transplants, and other services for the intellectually disabled
is not yet over. And this battle extends not only to those areas where there is
a choice between "this" recipient, or "that" one, but even
a general consideration that the lives of those with intellectual disabilities
is one worth living.
Ricki was taking a psychiatric
drug (Resperdal) for the last two years of her life. She needed the drug,
without question, but it is a drug known to cause weight gain. Ricki had always
been on the "full" side, but she was active, and we were working on
curbing her eating. But with the Resperdal her weight ballooned. We asked the
doctor is there was no other medicine appropriate for her, and she said
"No. There IS a drug that acts in the same way, and doesn't cause weight
gain, but the health fund almost never prescribes it, and it costs $200 a
month." We asked her to apply for an exception for Ricki, but she refused.
"They NEVER agree to cover the cost for those with intellectual
disabilities; they assume that anyway they will be fat. It's a waste of time to
apply."
So we went a different route:
putting up the gate to block off the kitchen, checking that the school only
gave her one portion at lunch, etc. If we had known that her weight would have
lethal effects so quickly, we would have paid the monthly $200. I thought we
had time. We would have fought the health fund without the doctor's help. But
in my mind, the prejudice of the health fund helped kill my daughter.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
A Whole lot of Mistakes
The first mistake was that of
the drug company to run out of medicinal cream that my husband needed. I went
to a few local pharmacies, but none had the ointment he needs this week...and
all blamed the drug company. (He needed 2 ointments, and none had the first
med; one pharmacist did have the second, but I didn't buy it, as I needed the
prescription for the first, more important salve.)
So I called the health fund for
help, and they located a tube of the first ointment in the health fund pharmacy
about 20 minutes walk away. So I told the pharmacy to save it for me, I would be coming. I could
have taken the bus, but not yet having gotten my 10,000 daily steps in for the
day, I elected to walk.
Here I need to explain that I
don't like wearing my boots. I have rather large feet, and the only boots I have
found in my size have relatively smooth soles, and are not conducive to quick
(ie, aerobic) walking. So I only wear them when I REALLY need to. Now this morning I had been out, and the
weather had been fairly dry for what had been forcasted as a very "rainy day". So since it wasn't
raining when I left the house, I wore regular shoes. That was MY mistake.
To make a long story short, I was
caught in a deluge. Heavy rains and gusty winds drenched me. In addition, road
construction forced me to walk through ankle-high rivulets. And then from the
pharmacy I had to take a bus to past my house, to return to the first pharmacy
in order to obtain the SECOND ointment. (For some reason, the health fund
pharmacy didn't have it, only the first….). From there I had to walk home, again in the pouring rain.
Now I am NOT complaining about
the rain. We need every drop.But I hope I learned my lesson to wear my boots
more often. And of course, on arriving home I plucked a pair of warm socks from
my drawer, and put them on the radiator. Then I went to change my sodden skirt,
and topped that off with wearing the warmed-up socks.
I'm glad that at least I got
the last bit of my aerobic walking in for the day. Maybe tomorrow I'll try
canoeing……
Monday, January 7, 2013
Remembering
Dave Hingsburger at his blog
Rolling Around in My Mind, has advocated making January 23rd a day " to commemorate the lives lived by people with disabilities
who were locked away, who ARE locked away from full participation in society.
It was also established to remember those, our elders, who have worked
tirelessly for inclusion and access, for the word 'all' to actually mean 'all'."
His story as to why he chose
this date, posted last year, is also telling:
"I
have always, for example, marked January 23rd in my calendar as a day to
remember. Let me tell you why. Sandra Jensen was a woman with Down syndrome who
was denied a heart transplant because of her disability. It seems that people
thought that a perfectly good heart should go to a perfectly good person - and
though Sandra lived a life of quality and contribution, she was not considered.
In fact, a transplant had never been given to someone with an intellectual
disability. They didn't know who they were dealing with.
Sandra
was an advocate and she began. She fought against prejudice. She fought against
stereotype. She fought against hatred. Her message was one of hope and power.
She wanted her life to be valued. She wanted everyone to know that she loved
living and the she rejected any notion of 'better off dead'. She stood for all
people with disabilities. She stood for all to be valued. She fought and she
fought hard. And she won. On January 23rd, 1996, she got her heart."
I am
planning on writing a special post for that day. And please spread the word.
Because the battle for full acceptance of those with disabilities is far from
over.
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